


BANG*S

by whetstone



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetstone/pseuds/whetstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seunghyun likes action figures and pop art and Jiyong. But mostly Jiyong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BANG*S

**Author's Note:**

> Published 10/2009. I took some liberties with what was in the bedroom, but mostly used YGTV as the basis.

When you get your own _cartoons_ , Seunghyun muses, staring at the merchandise box someone’s left in his bedroom, it means you’ve made it.

There are socks and a board game and a body pillow (of himself; he frowns at how soft it is) and a set of papers in a cellophane slip. He sets the pillow aside and turns the papers over to reveal what looks like Daesung, bisected.

After peeling open the wrapper, he discovers that they’re 3D paper models of each member, realistically drawn except for the stumpy little limbs and overlarge heads. He decides to start with Seungri in case he messes up, pulling each piece out from its perforated space and folding them together until he’s holding a miniature head, which he sets on the desk face-down.

For the next five hours Seunghyun’s room is eerily quiet except for the chime of a text message. Youngbae goes to take Boss out at ten p.m. and tiptoes past the bedroom, shushing a curious Seungri, who’s opened the door to ask what was wrong with Seunghyun-hyung, why there wasn’t any music playing or TV going or anything. Youngbae shrugs, threatens him with a full-bladdered Boston Terrier and shuts the magnae’s own door in his face, an exasperated smile playing on his lips.

By midnight, Seunghyun has amassed three paper cuts, a large mound of scraps, and four small facsimiles of his bandmates plus himself. He pulls his paper-self’s hair down near one eyebrow the way he likes it and places them around the room, crawling into bed without even bothering to turn off the light.

\--------------------------------

At three a.m., he’s awakened by a set of very cold hands rubbing at the back of his neck and his cheeks and he jerks backwards, almost elbowing the intruder in the face, who backs up immediately. Jiyong settles at the foot of the bed, crossing one leg over the other Indian-style. There's a paper bag stuffed into the pocket of his jacket.

“I brought that...” he squirms a little, trying to worm the bag out from the impossibly tight denim. Inside is a bottle, which he turns so he can read the label. “Model glue you asked me for. You building ships or something?”

“No,” he replies, voice scratchy with sleep, “I made these... things. Of us.” He motions with one hand, lets it fall onto the comforter. “Out of paper. Wanted to glue them.” Yawning, he settles the blankets back over himself, grabbing Jiyong by the wrist to pull him down.

“Of _us_? What do you mean?” Jiyong peels his fingers away and looks around the room. “What things? Show me.”

“Don’t wanna,” he grumbles, swatting blindly behind him with the body pillow. “Wanna go sleep --”

“Is this you?” Jiyong grins widely, holding the pillow away from himself. “I’m taking this. This is mine.” He squeezes it with both hands, settling his head against the top to watch Seunghyun glare at him from his cocoon. “It’s squishy.”

In reply he’s kicked and dragged across the bed to be used as a handrest. Seunghyun pushes down on his shoulder, hard, to sit himself up and ignores the indignant ‘ow!’ he receives. “I’ll show you the things since you won’t go away. And this--” he grabs the body pillow, tossing it into the box it came from “is defective. I wanted mine to be extra firm, not medium-soft.”

Rubbing at an eye, he pushes Jiyong along the shelves where he keeps his toys, pointing out where he set each band member. “Youngbae,” he says, pointing at the spot on his desk where he keeps his grandfather’s collected works, his family photos. “Daesung,” in front of the tattered Lee Hyori poster he’s had in his possession since he was fifteen. “Seungri,” on his cd shelf, next to his copy of the Strong Baby single that Seungri had autographed and given to him personally.

“Me,” he points to a spot near the top, where his Notorious B.I.G. figure dominates. Jiyong’s smile has been widening during the little tour, but this is where he loses it. His laughter fills the room until his eye catches the clock and he quiets himself.

 “Think a lot of yourself, hyung?”

“Funny.”

For a little while, they’re both silent. Then Jiyong speaks up, a little confused. “What about me? Where am I? Wait, you have to show me--”

Seunghyun is yawning again. He sits on his bed and gestures him over, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his hair when Jiyong finally settles against his lap. His voice is muffled against the sleek cap of blonde hair but it’s loud enough so that he can hear it when he says, “I put you over there.”

“Where?”

“Look.”

On the nightstand there is a small lamp, a bottle of water, and Jiyong’s figure. It was the last one he made that night, so the pieces fit together perfectly: the tiny creeper shoes curved right where they were supposed to, the hair in styled pieces along the head. “I don’t get it,” he says, lifting his mini self from its spot.

“Under,” he mumbles into his hair.

There’s a coaster laying there from a limited Andy Warhol set Jiyong had managed to get half of online. His indignance (he’d been looking for the purple one for months) melts away when the quote printed across from it catches his eye.

 _I wonder if it’s possible to have a love affair that lasts forever_.

He almost crushes the paper figure but manages to drop it against the nightstand, laughing and shoving himself further into Seunghyun’s arms. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Shut up.” He crawls away, tries to bury himself in his sheets, but Jiyong sidles in next to him, kissing with too many teeth, too wide a grin.

“You want to love me forever, hyung?”

“Shut _up_.” He kicks him again and Jiyong finally stops laughing, but the smile lingers on his face and he forces Seunghyun onto his side, burrows into the little crook between neck and arm and shoulder, presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.

“You love me now, though.”

“I guess so.” His voice is gruff but he’s carding fingers through his hair, shifting around so he can kiss him once, then again. His breath is tinged with sleep but Jiyong doesn’t mind, stretches out under him obligingly. “Yeah, I guess.”


End file.
